


Sins of Love

by Kiss_Me_Im_Pie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Criminal Families, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Robb Stark is a Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-05-14 10:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiss_Me_Im_Pie/pseuds/Kiss_Me_Im_Pie
Summary: Having recovered from the death of their parents, the Stark family is slowly trying to rebuild their reputation as the strongest crime family in Westeros and beyond. They ally themselves in creating an empire, but an alliance with the Boltons spirals and becomes much more than anyone imagined.





	1. Robb I

A small, polite smile graced Robb's face as he entered the reception room. The Tyrell siblings had already been seated at the table, with Jon standing off to the side most likely awaiting his arrival.

_'Stand_ _straight_ _when_ _you_ _meet people, son._ _Never show hesitance or fear to them.'_

"Loras, Margaery, I'm glad you could join us." He extended his hand to each of them.

_'Strong_ _handshake_ _and look them in the eye. Yes, just like that Robb. You will run this business one day - I know you'll make me proud.'_

"But of course." Loras leaned back in his chair. "You said you wanted to talk about, um," He snapped his fingers, "what was it?"

"A trade deal between the Starks and Tyrells, since they are the biggest gang in the North and we have control of drugs in the South." Margaery flashed a smile to the men before turning her attention back to glancing around the room in what Robb could only guess was pure curiosity.

Loras nodded once and leant on his elbows. "Ah, of course. I'll admit Stark, I didn't expect anything like this from you. I mean, with the whole Baratheon-Lannister thing – your parents, your sister. I’m surprised you’re so open to another deal.”

“Yes well,” The Stark child swallowed, his eyes flicking over to Jon for a fraction of a moment, “we’ve grieved for our parents, and Sansa is…recovering. Not to mention that Joffery has since been…taken care of.” He allowed himself a small smile.

“And in fantastic style too, may I say.” Loras tipped his head towards the two men.

“You’d be better to thank your grandmother for that one.”

“Oh yes, dear grandmother and her affinity for poison.” Margaery brought herself back into the conversation, looking wistfully upon the thought.

“A beautifully terrifying force of nature, we can all agree.” The elder Tyrell smiled broadly. “But let’s get back to the matter at hand.”

“Of course.” Robb waved over his brother to sit next to him. "We would like to start a partnership with you. If you provide us with a portion of your drug supply we can get it distributed around the North and as far as Essos. That would double, possibly triple your current market.”

“And what do you get out of this?” Margaery raised an eyebrow. “Or are we to believe that this is all done out of the kindness of your heart.”

“All we would ask for is a simply cut of the profits.” Jon spoke for the first time. “Sixty-forty for all new areas you would receive. You get to keep one-hundred percent of all profits in the South, so you’re still bringing in much more than you ever could without us. You would also receive our contacts throughout all lands to increase your supply to begin with, and would become a part of something much, much bigger.”

“So, the rumours are true – you’re creating an empire.”

“We prefer to say that we’re branching out.” Robb corrected Loras. “Trade deals with the most influential crime families in the lands. Everyone gets bigger together.”

The female of the room leant forward. “Who are these other families, may I ask?”

“We already have family connections with the Arryns and Tullys – as you know, as well as strong alliances with the entire fighting force of the Wildlings. We have extended invitation to the Martells, which was accepted, as well as yourselves, the Targaryens and the Boltons.”

“I’m sorry, _what?_ ” Loras’s eyes went wide, his jaw slack. “The Boltons are psychopaths – anyone can tell you that.”

Robb nodded and continued. “That they are, but they also control all weapons throughout the entirety of Westeros. We need to form some kinds of alliance with them if we are to do this.”

The Tyrell siblings shared a look, both of their expressions unreadable in a way that Robb suspected had been taught to them from birth. With no words spoken the pair an agreement had seemed to have been met and Loras stood, sticking his hand in front of the eldest.

"You may be one of the craziest fuckers I know," He began, "but you're right in more ways than one. We agree to the terms laid out."

Robb stood, grasping his ally's hand in a grip taught to him from young. "I'm looking forward to our new-found partnership."

Sansa bustled in, a tray gripped in her hands. She smiled at the group. "Anyone for lemon cakes?"

Robb couldn’t help but let out a short laugh at his sister’s presence and waved a hand toward the new comers. “Loras, Margaery, my sister Sansa.” The woman in question waved as she placed the tray on the table.

“Ah,” Margaery stood up and took the other female’s hand gently, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, “a pleasure.”

Sansa’s face quickly bloomed to a shade almost identical to her hair and took her hand back. “I-it was good to meet you two.” She stammered out. “I’m going to check on the others.”

Loras clicked his tongue as she all but ran from the room. “Don’t spook her Marg,” He warned his sister, “she’s been through enough.”

“Sansa is much better from where she first was, but she’s still scared even if she won’t admit it.” Jon clarified before turning to the Tyrell sister directly. “Just be considerate of her – not pitting or anything.”

“Of course.” She agreed.

“Glad to hear,” Robb folded his hands. “Now that we have some food, shall we begin on these terms?”

* * *

 

The door to their home shut loudly, followed by rapid footsteps all the way to living room.

“Robb, Robb, Robb!” A bundle of red curls pounced into the room. "Guess what?" Rickon quickly continued before anyone could try and reply. "Shireen said yes!"

"Nice one buddy!" The eldest held his hand out for a high-five, quickly reciprocated.

"Who said yes to what?" Sansa walked in from the garden and settled on a seat. She walked a lot since Joffery.

“Shireen Baratheon,” Arya rolled her eyes, chucked her bag onto the floor unceremoniously and flopped onto the sofa next to Jon, “she's some girl that he's liked for ages. He just asked her to some dance his school is doing on Friday."

Rickon turned, his face bloomed to scarlet. "I do _not_ like her!"

"You've talked about her every day for a month, at least." Bran pointed it as he wheeled himself into the room.

"Have not!"

Arya leaned off the arm rest and yelled out the door, "Gendey! How much does Rickon talk about Shireen?"

"Most days, if not all." The family driver allowed himself a small smile as he walked in, stopping in the doorframe. "I know as much about her as I do the rest of you, you'd think she was another sister."

"I do not! Sansa!" Rickon turned to his other sister in outrage.

Sansa tried to school her laugh and pushed her brother forward. "Why don't you go and find Osha and see if she'll help you find a suit for the dance." The youngest brightened and quickly left to locate his favourite servant.

"He's got the Stark temper alright." Jon smirked at his family.

"Did you say her last name is Baratheon?" Robb's eyebrows knitted together. "I wasn't aware of that."

"She's a child Robb." Sansa smiled back, her face only slightly tense. "She’s innocent in all of this.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t be vigilant.” He turned to their driver, who suddenly straightened upon realising that his boss’s attention had turned. Robb supposed that it must have been weird for everyone who worked for them. They had seen him grow from a boy to a man of twenty-two and now he oversaw them all. Gendry himself was still a year elder and yet he stood to attention the same as any other. “Gendry, get the car ready for tomorrow. We’re going to take a drive.”

Sansa flushed in rage, her skirt whipping around her legs as she stood. “Robb, it’s a dance for gods’ sake!”

“Not for that.” Robb quickly dismissed as he shook his head. “The Boltons responded do our request and wish to speak with us. Jon and I will drive to the Dreadfort tomorrow."

Arya scoffed. "You're just gonna trust the Boltons to not murder you on sight?"

"We're also bringing Jory and Dacey, just in case." Jon added. “They have orders to kill without hesitation should anything go south.”

Robb looked over his family. Arya was in her last year of school with Bran a year behind. Rickon had just turned twelve and Sansa nineteen. They were all so young. _He_ was still young. Jon sat nearby, only a couple months behind him. They were all _too young_.

“We’ll be fine,” He flashed what he hoped was a convincing smile, “okay?”


	2. Jon I

Jon Snow was his father’s son to the end. His likeness to Eddard had always been the largest driving force between himself and Catelyn whilst also bringing him and Arya closer. She had once confided her worry that she too might have been a child born of infidelity but he had quickly assured her otherwise, telling Arya of how he had held her when she was born and how tight her grip had been on his finger. She had wiped her suspiciously wet eyes and hugged him tightly.

He decided not to share how he had only seen her the day after her birth, having been banned from the hospital room by her mother, nor that Catelyn had scowled every time she had cried for him or laughed as they played. He had negated to tell her how he questioned the Gods on what he had done to deserve the older woman’s actions towards him. He never spoke of those times, the same as he never spoke of his conflicting emotions since her passing. He had never wanted her dead just as much as he never wanted his own father to die. He had still cried at the funeral alongside his siblings and yearned for revenge all the same.

Jon allowed himself a small smile as he buttoned his shirt. While the death of a person scarcely a year younger than himself was nothing to glad of, the death of a monster most certainly was. People had spoken of Joffrey’s death – clawing at his throat, eyes wide and blood pooling at his chin – in the same way they had once spoke of Ned and Cat’s own demise and how their heads had caved in under the bullets from the same man’s riffle. The Stark siblings had all found it quite satisfying.

Jon smoothed down his hair in the mirror before turning around to grab his jacket from the bed. He caught Ygritte watching him from under the covers.

She smirked. “Turn back around, I had a good view.”

The corners of his own mouth raised as he walked over to her, his jacket forgotten. “My face isn’t a good enough sight for you?”

“Oh, it is.” Ygritte pushed herself up and leaned closer, her voice quietening into a sultry whisper. “I just happen to love your arse just as much.”

Jon jumped slightly as his girlfriend snuck her arm around and groped him, bringing her laughter bubbling to the surface. His cheeks only slightly red, he closed what little distance still lay between them and thrust their lips together. Ygritte smiled into the kiss before nipping his bottom lip lightly and leaning back so their foreheads touched.

“Come back today, alright?”

“Of course.”

* * *

The Dreadfort was a name coined by one of the Bolton’s clients that had seemed to spread around to the point where no one, even the Bolton’s themselves, bothered to correct it. A few hours drive from Winterfell, the two-story warehouse sat on the edge of a large forest rumoured to be the burial site for those who had wronged the family.

Jon remembered the head of the house Roose Bolton visiting them when he was young, not long after Bran’s birth, to do business with their father. Ned had been careful in what his children knew about the business before they were of age, but had not accounted for his six-year-old wandering into the midnight meeting in tears from a nightmare. When he had started to apologise for the interruption Roose had shook his head.

“My own bastard is a couple years older, children are quite the nuisance at times of importance.” The meeting had closed soon after and Ned had smoothed his son’s hair down as the tears dried on his cheeks for the better part on an hour before Jon had gone back to sleep. He was unaware if any business deal had come from the encounter and besides from short condolences sent to each side, one for the death of Roose’s eldest Domeric and later for their own parents, no communication had been kept. Yet Robb had been insistent of the necessity for some sort of alliance due to the family’s monopoly on weapon smuggling within the North. Jon had reluctantly agreed and simply hoped that it wouldn’t come back for him.

Ramsey Bolton greeted them upon arrival with a wide grin stretch precariously across his face. “Mr Stark, Mr Snow, I welcome you to the Dreadfort. My apologies for my father’s absence, his wife’s pregnancy is mostly occupying him at the moment but he will be joining us in a minute.”

“Of course,” Robb extended a hand, quickly accepted, “our congratulations. A boy, correct?”

Ramsey’s smile wavered momentarily. “Yes.” His reply was all but spat out. The conversation stilled as he led them into the building, Dacey and Jory close behind. Jon could spot both with hands close to their respective guns, glancing at every corner as if there were a threat round every one. Jon knew, for he looked at them in the same way.

The building was dark, with the various light let through the widows immediately swallowed by the shadows of furniture and dimly painted walls. The meeting room was no exception to the rule, consisting of a large table with a dozen chairs and a few tables at the side with refreshments laid out. A couple servant girls bustled around doing some last-minute cleaning, but other than that the room was devoid of other people.

“Please, take a seat.” Ramsey gestured to the table. “My father should be with us momentarily.”

The table had obviously been laid out so that the two families would be on opposite sides. If Jon craned his neck from his seat he could spot a few bodyguards stationed outside the doors.

“Kyra,” Ramsey’s voice brought Jon back to the situation at hand, “bring myself and our guests some wine. And poor one for my father too, while you’re at it”

“Of course, m’lord.” A young woman, scarcely older than Sansa, scurried over to one of the tables and brought a large pitcher to them.

_‘Lord?’_ Jon mouthed to his brother as Ramsey distracted himself with the new arrival but Robb simply shrugged in return. Lords and Ladies hadn’t been used in centuries and to try and use said titles in the current age would mean almost nothing. Jon supposed it was simply an egotistic matter – a way for Ramsey to attempt to hold himself higher. When the woman made her way over to the, the brothers were sure to thank her, each receiving a small smile in return.

“Dornish wine, supposedly the best in the world. The Martell family seem to think so, at least.” Ramsey swirled the liquid around his cup. “They hold the whole of Dorne in their palms, you know?”

“Of course they know Ramsey, the Martells and Starks have been in communication for almost a year.” Roose’s voice carried through the empty hall even before he was visible to its occupants. His eyes were focused on his son, who seemed to be completely occupied with the surface of the table. “A deal was recently made, correct?”

Robb seemed to realise that he was being spoken to and spared a short glance at Jon. “Yes, a few weeks ago. And one yesterday with the Tyrells.”

“And now you wish for one with us.” The elder man stated for it wasn’t a question. He sat down, his eyes now floating between the brothers.

“We do.” Jon raised his head as he spoke. “We’re offering you contacts from around Westeros and even to Dorne to sell any of your products you desire. In return we simply ask for a share in your profits. Forty-sixty, majority still goes back to you.”

“Word had it you’ve contacted any major family that doesn’t already work for you. What’s to stop us from going to one of them?” Ramsey had appeared to have one again found his voice.

“You could,” Robb agreed, “but would you be getting as much as what we can provide? You’re not a large house, you need allies.”

Ramsey’s smile turned sour as he laughed short and bitter. “We don’t _need_ anything. Our blades are sharp, we could easily take you ou-”

“That’s enough.” Roose’s voice had barley raised, yet is quietened his son, who had stood up halfway through his speech, immediately. “Ramsey, go look after the horses.” Ramsey looked at him incredulously but his father simply looked at him and stated, “Now.” Ramsey huffed and pushed his chair backwards so that it tipped and crashed loudly to the floor.

“And send your creature down while you are near it.” His father called after him, met only by the slammed door in reply. He turned to the guests, who had watched the scene unfold his wide eyes whilst Jory and Dacey both had their guns out and to their sides. “You will have to excuse him. Ramsey has the idea that he is much more important than he actually is. He is not made to run a business such as this. Not yet.” He took a long sip of his wine before clasping his hands on the table. “As for this deal you’ve proposed, you can consider it in motion from now. There are a few things I would like to sort out but I do believe we will both come away better off.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.” Robb recovered from his shock and turned to tell their bodyguards to stand down, when the door opened and the two quickly drew their weapons and pointed them at the newcomer.

A small whimper stuck at the doorway as impossibly large eyes stared at the group. Roose looked up, his lip curling slightly, and beckoned the arrival forward.

“Stand down.” Jon whispered. Jory and Dacey complied, and the whole group watched on at the current situation. Jon took it in. The newcomer was a young man, he assumed him to be more than likely his and Robb’s age. He was tall but thin beyond nature with hair whiter than the winter snow. Jon thought that if the man’s eyes became any wider they may have popped straight out of his bruised sockets.

“What…?” Robb trailed off, stunned in a way Jon had not seen his brother many times before.

“This is my son’s doing.” Roose took another sip of his wine before waving a hand in the man’s direction. “Reek.”

“That’s your name?” Robb only addressed the young man.

“Yes sir.” His voice was hoarse and he kept his eyes firmly down to the floor. “Reek. Only Reek.”

“I don’t…” He turned to Roose, his features ablaze. “Why do you show us this? You mean to intimidate us?”

“ _I’m sorry!_ ” The man’s voice was suddenly louder, more frantic than before as he stepped back in fear. Jon watched, silently shocked. “I’m sorry sir, I’m-“

“Quiet.” ‘Reek’ quietened at the elder man’s words. Roose continued. “I wish to offer him to you.”

The room was dimmed to silence as all the occupants tried to follow. Jon stared at his brother, watching the questions dance behind his eyes. Eventually Robb swallowed, “Why? Will your son agree to this?”

Roose rolled his eyes lightly. “Ramsey agrees to what I tell him to do. It’s his job. And this,” He again waved a hand in ‘Reek’s direction, “is a token of the Bolton’s generosity. My son, as ill-tempered and idiotic as he is, has trained him well. He will never waver loyalty. And perhaps taking his _play-thing_ away will allow him to treat this business with more respect.”

Jon blinked. He looked behind him to see their bodyguards as shocked as he was, all three of them seemingly waiting on Robb’s word. The young man also stared at Robb. Jon could have sworn he saw tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

“I-” Robb swallowed once more, and briefly connected gaze with Jon. “We accept these terms.” He glanced at ‘Reek’. “All of the terms.”

For the first time in the meeting Roose smiled, though it did nothing to relieve the tension. He stood and extended a hand “I’m glad you see this from _our_ way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Sunday to the best of my ability


	3. Reek I

Reek was scared.

Granted, it was often scared but at least it knew what was happening. It could see The Master’s mood and could guess what would happen and whether it would be punished.

But Lord Bolton had given Reek away to a new master. The Master has not been consulted and Reek was to be gone before he knew anything about the arrangement. The new master (Mr Stark, Lord Bolton had said) had seemed nervous too, though The Master had looked nervous once before and that had been a test - a test that Reek had failed. Reek didn’t want to fail any tests that the new master had, so it kept its head down, followed after him quietly and only spoke if it had to – simply shaking or nodding its head if possible. It’s only mistake had been informing Mr Stark that it didn’t _actually own_ anything and so didn’t need to pack, but the new master hadn’t hit Reek and had instead simply walked it to the car and sat it in while he and the other man (Mr Snow - Lord Bolton had said Mr Snow) bid their goodbyes to Lord Bolton. Reek tried not to shiver as it caught the driver staring at it from the front seat in either shock, confusion or both. It was, however, unable to supress a jump of fright as the door opened and the new master and other man both climbed in. One of the armed people they had brought with them followed after them whilst a second sat in the front with the driver.

“Drive Gendry.” The new master barked out as everyone got themselves sorted, with the driver nodding back a quick confirmation and starting the vehicle.

“You’ll want to do your seatbelt up.” Reek’s head snapped over to the other man, sat on the opposite side of the back seats. Somewhere in the back of its mind, Reek could remember cab seats looking like the car they were currently in. But Reek had never been in a car. Reek had never seen anyone but The Master, The Master’s family and The Master’s friends.

It snapped back to the situation at hand as it felt a hand nearby. Letting out a small squeak, Reek lifted its head to see the new master pulling the seatbelt over it and buckling it in. “Do you have a different name?” He asked once he was back in his own seat. “One that your mother or father gave you?”

“Reek.” It shook its head quickly, breath coming faster. “Only Reek.”

The new master’s eyes flicked to the other man. “Do you have a family? Any brothers or sisters that you’d like to see?”

“The Master is my only family. He made me. He loves and cares for me.” Reek swallowed. “He lets me be Reek.”

The car went silent, save for the engine rumbling in the background. The new master and other man kept looking at one another, then at Reek. The armed lady sat next to it hadn’t stopped staring since she first got in.

“Okay.” The new master was quieter than before as he looked straight at Reek. “Well, I’m Robb and this is Jon.” He indicated to the other man. “I guess we’re going to care for you now.”

Reek swallowed again but said nothing. The Master had taught him well. It knew what to do to help keep masters happy now. It knew how to be cared for and now to take punishment. It could do this.

* * *

 

The new master’s house was much larger than the Dreadfort and when compared to the shadowy building, the new establishment seemed almost blinding to Reek.  The new master had sent his guards and driver ahead to speak with his family whilst it waited with him and the other man. Reek couldn’t help but glance between the two. The new master was taller but the other was more strongly built, and it suddenly feared if maybe they were both his new masters. It knew what to do with one master but it wasn’t sure if it could handle two. The Master had hurt enough by himself and the nights with his men had been worse than Reek’s days on the cross, Reek nearly threw up at the idea of repeating those times.

“Are-“ The beginning of the sentence slipped out before Reek could control itself. It went still and deathly pale as if all life and light had been sucked out by a single word.

The new master looked over, apparently startled by the sudden word. “Did you want to ask something?” Reek shook its head quickly, its eyes stuck firmly to the floor. He glanced at Jon before continuing. “It’s okay if you do. We’ll answer any questions you have to the best of our ability, or find someone who does know an answer to a question that we don’t.”

Slowly, Reek raised its head and looked up at the new master. He didn’t look mad, The Master always looked mad when it had done something wrong even when his voice was calm. Reek swallowed. “Are-are both of you in charge? Or just one?” It cursed its voice for being so quiet and meek – The Master would grab its chin and spit at it to speak up, that he couldn’t hear it, that it must have been doing it on purpose since it had obviously done something wrong.

But the new master still didn’t look mad, neither did his companion, instead they just looked to one another in confusion.

“I mean,” The new master coughed quietly, “it’s a family business so I guess we’re all…we all work together and get things done to-“

“Robb’s in charge.” Jon cut in, rolling his eyes when his brother stared at him. “Oh come _on_ , it was in dad’s will that you were to run the business. Everyone reports to you.” He turned back to Reek. “He’s in charge, 100 percent.”

Reek nodded and kept its mouth shut to prevent any other words from escaping. It was lucky that the new master hadn’t punished it for speaking out of turn and Reek didn’t want to push its luck. At the sound of the garage door opening, it raised its eyes. A young woman stepped through – long red hair that fell in waves down her back. Reek kept its eyes on her as she came closer, scared that she would try what The Master had gotten _his_ girls to do long before.

The woman said nothing to the men, though nodded in greeting, and instead approached Reek. It was taller than her, even with the hunch that it had managed to acquire over the years. Her eyes were soft as she looked at him, vivid blue orbs that seemed to stare straight through it. Somehow Reek believed that she knew of its pain, though wondered how as she had never been at the Dreadfort and it doubted that she would have ever met The Master.

“Hello,” Her voice was softer still – Reek felt very much like the birds that would land in the kennels sometimes, one quick sound or movement from fleeing, “my name is Sansa. Could you tell me yours?”

“Reek.” It replied, grateful for the limited stammer that came with.

“That’s your name?”

“Yes Ma’am.” _Reek, weak, shriek, leek, freak, Reek_

“Okay.” She glanced briefly at the two men before extending a hand to Reek. “Would you like me to show you where you can sleep?”

“Yes Ma’am.” It could only hope that the new master had dogs as well, good dogs that it could share warmth with when the nights were cold. Reek took Sansa’s hand and followed behind her, it too glancing back to the two men before they disappeared through the door. Beyond the garage was large hallways leading to what seemed like infinite rooms. Somewhere nearby Reek could hear laughter and short screams and wondered if maybe they kept others like it as well. Maybe they could teach it on how the new master wished for it to behave, though Reek supposed it would have to do that some other time.

Sansa stopped suddenly in an upstairs corridor where rooms spaces out to at least a half dozen rooms. Reek could spot stickers on some of the doors, posters on others and on one large letters drawn crudely in crayon spelling out _‘Rickon’_ , followed by a small drawing of a wolf. The woman opened the door that they were in front of, and Reek was both surprised and incredibly confused to see that it was a bedroom. A normal bedroom that people, _normal people and not creatures_ , slept in. On one wall a door was open and showed the way to a private bathroom and on the opposite wall a large bed with fur throws was pristinely made. An oak wardrobe and marble fireplace also resided in the room, the latter of which had been lit before their arrival and allowed for the whole room to seem even warmer.

“I’m not sure what you want to do.” Reek’s head turned to Sansa, realising that she was speaking to it. “Dinner will be about an hour, so I’ll come back then to see if you feel up to joining us. No one will mind if you don’t, we know it’s a long, confusing day. Obviously, you can also take a bath or just sleep. Osha put some of Robb and Jon’s old clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.” She waved her hand over the room. “Other than that, you’re free to do what you want.”

She walked over to the door and pulled it open, leaving Reek standing in the middle of the room more lost than it had ever been before.

“Reek?” It turned to her once more. She smiled comfortingly. “It’ll get easier, all of this. I promise.” She closed the door after her.

Reek wasn’t certain what she meant. It had been with The Master for years and nothing had become easier. Every time it had thought it was doing something right The Master reminded him of something it had forgotten and punished it once more. And it wasn’t certain what she had meant about having a bath. Reek was a slow learner but it knew that it was to never have a bath unless The Master allowed it. It could count the number of baths it had been in over the years on the few remaining fingers it had left.

Reek didn’t understand a lot about its new master and his family. But it had learned once and it could learn again.

_Meek, bleak, wreak, squeak_

It could learn again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is surprisingly difficult to use the pronoun 'it' in coherent sentences  
> -  
> Updates every Sunday to the best of my ability


	4. Sansa I

“And you’re certain he’s alright?”

Sansa sighed as she watched her brother pace the floor. She figured that if he continued any longer he would burn a hole right through his bedroom carpet.

“Yes Robb, I’m sure.” She was sat crossed legged on the edge of his bed. In THE background she could still here short screams from Rickon and laughter from Bran as Osha played with them. “He seemed confused and perhaps scared but that’s understandable. He’s just been taken from a place that he’s known for however long and placed with a stranger. Anyone would be scared.”

“It’s not just that.” Robb stopped pacing, his hands caught in a grip on his coat. “I don’t know what Ramsey did to him but I know it wouldn’t have been good.”

“I know that Ramsey isn’t good but maybe he just-“

“No!” Sansa flinched at her brother’s sudden raised voice. Robb instantly softened his posture and sat down next to her, his hand gently on her leg. “I’m sorry. I just…” He swallowed, “on the way back he called Ramsey _his master_. He said that he had created him.” Robb raised his head so he looked Sansa in the eyes. “I don’t think he was always like _this_. I think Ramsey made him into ‘Reek’. Which means that somewhere a mother and father could be wondering where their son is, siblings could be unaware of what happened to their brother.”

Sansa placed her own hand on top of Robb’s. “Do you want me to get Jon to call Samwell? He can run a DNA scan.”

“Yeah,” Robb nodded, “that’d be best.”

* * *

Sansa had to admit that if there was any positivity to come out of her experiences with Joffrey, her new-found ability to school her emotions was most certainly an asset that she could use. Whilst she had been living under the bastard’s thumb keeping her emotions in check had been the difference between sleeping and crying.

Even then, months after Robb had held her in his arms as Joffrey’s body lay not ten metres behind them, she found herself once again relying on the talent. ‘Reek’ had been looking at her with what she could only describe as terror in his eyes for the better part of ten minutes as Sam sorted out his (admittedly intimidating) equipment next to them. Sansa had several times nearly grabbed his hand to comfort him, but the one time she _had_ done it he had jumped back and nearly shrunk entirely in on himself. So instead she settled for simply trying to give him her most comforting look, the same one she would give Rickon as Luwin cleaned up his grazed knees.

“It’ll be fine,” She kept her voice low, it had been low for the entire week that ‘Reek’ had been living with them, “Sam knows what he’s doing. It won’t hurt and it’ll be done in a moment. Okay?”

‘Reek’ didn’t respond, his eyes still flicking from her face over to the equipment and back.

“Okay, looks like we’re ready.” Sam smiled at them. He held a swab in one hand with a pen tucked behind his ear. “I just need to take a swab from the inside of our cheek and your fingerprints. It’ll be over before you know it.” He leanted forward slightly. “Could you open your mouth for me please?”

For a brief moment, Sansa thought that ‘Reek’ would refuse. He hadn’t said no to anything at that point, had simply followed them around similar to how the dogs did. But instead he slowly did as he was asked, and sat still as Sam took the sample from the inside of his mouth.

“Perfect, thank you.” Samwell screwed the cap onto the sample jar before picking up a small ink pad and a scrap of paper. “Just need a fingerprint and we’re good. Could you give me your right index finger please?”

To Sansa’s surprise, ‘Reek’ immediately began to shake and his eyes darted around the room before resting solely on her face. The man’s face had gone so pale that she was almost certain that he would pass out in her lap. He quickly shook his head and mumbled, “I-I can’t.”

“Reek? Are you okay?”

“I can’t.” Tears began to pool in the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry but I _can’t_.” His voice cracked sharply.

“Reek.” She let her inhibitions go and grabbed his shoulders so they were eye level. The tears broke free and rolled down Reek’s cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Sam just needs your finger.”

“I-“ ‘Reek’ swallowed, his voice only managing to come out as a whisper, “I can’t.”

“ _Why?_ ”

The man’s eyes darted between the two faces once more before he brought his right hand out from under his leg where he so often kept it. Sansa couldn’t help but let out a small gasp whilst Samwell stayed stoic at the sight. ‘Reek’s index and pinkie finger were both gone, the former cut completely down to the palm whilst the latter had a small stub left over. His ring finger seemed to be twisted at the top in a way that Sansa was certain could not be comfortable at any time. A glance down at his other hand showed similar results with different digits. The backs of his hands bore many scars that ran up his wrist before hiding in Jon’s old long sleeve t-shirt that Reek had worn for the past three days. She looked back up at his face. The tears still flowed and he looked one moment away from collapsing in on himself. Sansa had let go on him at a point she was unaware of, but he still met her eyes when she looked. His eyes were blue.

Sam was the one to break the silence. His face was considerably paler but his smile remained, if a little tense at the edges. “May I use another finger? Whichever you’re comfortable with.” ‘Reek’ glanced down but slowly gave his right hand over, the middle finger extended out. Sam pressed it down onto the ink pad before rolling it over the paper.

Sansa grabbed his other hand. He jumped but didn’t pull away. She wondered if the experience was similar to how she reacted in the first few months from being free of Joffrey. She wondered if ‘Reek’ even knew he was free of whatever had happened before.

“You’re okay. It’s okay.” She whispered quietly. She stared at a particular finger, his left pinkie. The digit itself was still there but random sections of skin had been removed. The finger was an odd combination of too-pale skin and harsh red undersides. “It’s okay.”

She wasn’t really certain who she was comforting, but ‘Reek’ didn’t pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Sunday to the best of my ability


	5. Robb II

Robb stared at the screen in front of him, his eyes wide, before turning to Sam, "You're certain?"

"Statistically speaking there is a small room for error," Sam wringed his hands in his lap, "but his DNA closely resembles the father and both brothers. At that point I'd say it's much more likely that he is Theon Greyjoy than isn't."

"That makes him Balon _fucking_ Greyjoy’s son.” Jon stood up from his sofa seat before turning sharply and kicking the chair. “I thought the Greyjoy sons were all dead.”

“No, just two of them.” Robb’s head was in his hands. “Jaime Lannister killed the oldest two in the shootout but left the youngest since he was a boy. After their uncle killed Balon he and his sister ran – haven’t been seen since.”

“Is the uncle still in charge then?” Jon asked as he sat down again.

Robb shook his head in reply. “Never was, said the smuggling business wasn’t for him. He just wanted to kill his brother – probably the kids too if he had the chance. The Greyjoy business stopped about five years ago.”

“So umm,” The two brothers turned to Sam, who had busied himself with his laptop lid, “what are you going to do with him?”

“What can we do? It’s not safe to keep him here with the kids.”

“No Jon.” Robb stood up and walked over to the window. “We’re not killing him.”

“So what, you’re just going to let a _Greyjoy_ walk around Rickon? Bran? Sansa?” He scoffed. “He doesn’t even know who he is.”

His brother turned back to him, his face set and arms crossed. “No. If we kill him then we’re just as bad as the Boltons and the Lannisters.” Robb sighed softly. “Go get Sansa. We need to tell him. Maybe he remembers somewhere.”

* * *

Every time Robb saw the man, his urge to shoot Ramsey Bolton straight through his smiling teeth grew stronger. He had been with the Starks for close to two weeks but still looked on the cusp of death. His ribs still jutted out with every breath and bandages covered the majority of his torso from when Luwin had been able to sort out his wounds.

 _“Twenty, maybe thirty different wounds just on the upper body. Knives, whip, branding – it’s hard to see what wasn’t used on the boy.”_ The old man had looked to the sky in what Robb could only guess was a silent prayer of some kind. _“The lower half. Gods, I pray that he was unconscious when he was sodomised…but I can only assume not.”_

“Reek,” Sansa glanced at Robb briefly before leaning forward, “you said that you didn’t have a name before Ramsey made you Reek. Are you sure that’s the case?”

Theon’s eyes widened as he looked back between the two. “Yes, my name is Reek. I am only Reek.”

“We looked you up.” Robb stared at the man’s face. He had the outline of a handsome youngster with the body of someone who had crawled back from Hell himself. “It came up with a different name.” He swallowed quietly. “It came up with Theon Greyjoy.”

Theon jumped back as if he had been shot by the words alone and backed away to that he was stood with his back flush against his fireplace. He gripped the loose fabric of Robb’s old jogging bottoms – they hung from his hips as if moments from falling. “ _No._ Not Theon – _Reek!_ Theon Greyjoy is dead, he tried to run from The Master and The Master caught him and cut away the bad. He made Reek. My name is _Reek._ ” He slowly sank down to the floor and began to throw his head backwards, each impact with the stone making a sickening crack echo around his bedroom. “Reek it rhymes with sneak, it rhymes with weak, it rhymes-it rhymes-it rhymes-“

“Stop!” Sansa jumped after him and wretched him from his position, holding him against her chest. Robb could see tears pooling on the tops of her cheeks. “Please stop.”

“Theon Greyjoy is _dead_.” Theon’s voice cracked and he descended into thick sobs. He didn’t turn into Sansa’s embrace but did not turn away either. Instead the two sat on the floor together.

The eldest Stark stared at the scene, and tried to pull the urge back once more.

* * *

The Stark home was built over two floors, with the second being primarily bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate both the large family and all of their employees who lived with them.  It was long into the night and the majority of the rooms were occupied. Robb could distantly hear Rickon and his best friend Lyanna laughing in the background as they fought sleep during their sleepover. He didn’t have the heart to tell the kids to be quiet.

He had been trying to go to sleep for the past hour but every time he closed his eyes he heard gunshots and screams and flatline beeping. He hadn’t thought of those nights for a while. Accepting defeat, he got up and put on his slippers to go for a night stroll instead but had only made it about three steps into the hallway before a soft thud alerted him. Gun pulled from his waistband he edged towards the source and, hearing nothing, threw open the door. Theon froze on the carpet floor.

“Are you okay?” Robb quickly put the weapon away and closed the door behind him and slowly walked over to the man. He had lying on the carpet, his legs still half in the air – tangled in the duvet.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Theon tried to pull his legs free, presumably to stand and fix himself, but onto succeeded in pulling more of the blankets onto the floor with him.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Robb allowed himself a smile at the scene and crouched down. He unwound Theon and placed the duvet back onto his bed. He looked back at the man, his legs were pulled up to his chest. “You hurt?”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, seemingly ignoring the question. “I woke you.”

“You didn’t. I was already awake.” He shrugged lightly at the questioning gaze. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Theon seemed to burrow his face into his legs. “Me neither.”

“Nightmares?” Theon shrugged in return.

Robb took in the situation in front of him and sighed lightly. He leaned back against the bed. “You think you can go back to sleep?”

“I-” Theon swallowed lightly as his eyes began to dart – a small part of Robb broke inside, “I will sleep if you want me to Master.”

“No. I don’t want you to sleep for me, and I don’t want to be your Master.” Robb spit out the word as if it burned his mouth to say it. “What I want is for you to be comfortable and be your own person and not be forced to do anything anymore.” He knew he was close to tears. Theon seemed to have that effect on him lately. “I want you to be okay.”

The silence dragged on between them, only Robb’s subdued sniffling breaking any barrier between them. Theon was staring at the floor. “Robb,” His voice was quiet, “you said that was your name.”

The Stark rubbed his eye. “It is.”

Theon swallowed once more. “I don’t think I can sleep again Robb.”

“Okay. Would you like me to stay?” He looked at the other man – his eyes were blue.

 _‘Oceans.’_ Robb couldn’t help but think of. _‘They look like oceans.’_

Theon blinked. “Yes. Yes please.”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Sunday to the best of my ability


	6. Reek II

Slowly, Robb began to move Reek into a routine – get up, get dressed, talk to Old Nan, time with Sansa and bed. Occasionally it would have a bath but only if Robb had told it that it had to. Reek still felt uncomfortable breaking The Master's rule, but Robb was its new master so it didn't have a choice either way.

Reek's favourite time was easily with Sansa. She was soft and friendly and smiled at it, even when it messed up.

She was like Jayne.

But Jayne was dead. She died with Theon Greyjoy when The Master brought them home. Reek heard her screams in the night. The Master had shown Reek her body the next morning, and it had congratulated him as it swallowed the bile that rose. It lost two toes that day.

Sansa didn’t know about Jayne but Old Nan did. For the first week he hadn’t said anything, simply stared at the floor as she older woman had tried to make conversation. Robb had talked to him, said that she only wanted to help Reek with the nightmares and the crippling thoughts that came throughout the day.

“Sometimes I talk to her,” Sansa had told him the next morning during breakfast – the children had gone to school and Jon and Robb had gone on a day trip to the Mormonts, “it was hard a first. I cried a lot, but it did help.” She looked Reek in the eye as she placed a tender hand on his hand. It had never known a hand as soft. “Not everything that is good for you in easy. Sometimes you just have to trust that people genuinely want to help.”

So it had started small with when it was created, it talked about Daemon and his smile and whip, which turned to Reek’s hands and feet. Then it had started crying as Jayne tumbled out of its mouth. It didn’t remember much afterwards and Old Nan didn’t ask about Jayne again.

Sometimes Reek helped Sansa with the younger Starks. Bran usually read his books and didn’t talk much, but he had shown it how to push his chair properly. Arya didn’t like it so it stayed away from her. Rickon was loud but he didn’t yell or hit or bite so it was okay. He brought friends over a lot. Lyanna had stared for a long time, even as Rickon had tried to pull her away. Shireen had walked forward to Reek and smiled. She smiled like Jayne too.

“People stare at me too.” She had whispered as she brushed a hand over her scarred face. Her hand had slipped into its and pulled it outside where they had dumped a box of chalk. “Wanna draw with us?”

Reek couldn’t quite hold the sticks of chalk properly, they slipped through the gaps in its hands before anything distinguishable could be made, so Lyanna had pulled her hair out of her scrunchie, attached it to its wrist and slipped the chalk in. She smiled at him, then pushed Rickon for laughing at her smudged tree, and Reek felt okay.

* * *

_“Just a bit further, baby brother, I promise.” She was barely taller than him, cropped hair and pointed nose that suited him much more than her. Her arm was tight around his waist as she helped him along. His foot throbbed like no hell described before but he still put one in front of the other. She tried not to go limp as she half pushed, half threw him onto the carriage, jumped in afterwards as the cargo train roared to life. They shuffled over, huddling in the corner behind a few large crates._

_“What now?” His voice was strong and firm. His tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips – his teeth were all there too._

_She sighed and began to riffle through her backpack, “First stop is Winterfell, then Weeping Water. You’ll get off there, find a doctor and get yourself taken care of. I’ll wait until King’s Landing and find something there. We keep our heads down, don’t get into the business again and don’t tell anyone our last names.” She handed him an apple and he tore into it, lest his stomach begin to scream again. “We meet up in the Riverlands two years from now, when we’re stronger, and deal with Euron.” She looked over at him. He knew the fury in her eyes from memory by that point. “He’ll pay for what he did to dad.”_

_“I miss him.” He yelled at himself in his head, cursing himself for the pathetic whisper that he come out of his mouth. He was seventeen for fucks sake and yet here he was, choking on emotions like a child. “I mean, he was a goddamn son of a bitch but…”_

_“I know Theon,” He closed his eyes and leaned into her embrace, “I know.”_

* * *

 Reek’s eyes snapped open to darkness, save for the small digital clock on the nightstand.

_04:39_

It wasn’t the first time it had woken early. Nightmares torched his dreams for days on end – full nights of sleep weren’t something it took for granted.

 _That_ …that hadn’t been a nightmare though. It was a dream, Reek knew that, and dreams were just made up. But it had felt so _real_ , like it could reach out and touch the woman, that she would be there when he woke and would hold him close once again. But Reek didn’t know her.

_Baby brother…_

Reek had no sister, creatures had no family apart from The Master.

The why was it affecting it so much?

It pushed itself out of the bed, the covers left strewn over. Robb had told it to see him whenever it had a nightmare but Robb had gone with Jon to see the Reeds and was spending the night. Sansa was sleeping and Reek didn’t feel right robbing her of it, and the children were…children. But Luwin was always awake. Luwin had been a mild terror to Reek for a while, he was larger than him and smarter than him and had sharp tools not unlike The Master’s favourite ones. But he was also soft and made jokes and never balked at the scars.

“He’s seen worse.” Robb had told him when Reek had asked about the elder. “He’s been here while my grandfather ran the business, and my father and me. I doubt anything surprises him anymore.”

So, Reek creeped down the stairs and through the catacomb of hallways it had become accustomed too at some point during its month with the Starks. Luwin was indeed still awake, shuffling through some files in a draw in the back.

“Luwin?” Its voice was meek and quiet, always was, but somewhere there was an edge of confidence that scared Reek more than anything with The Master. The old man turned around and took in the sight, he looked it in the eye. Reek sucked in a breath. “What do you know about Theon Greyjoy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Sunday to the best of my ability


	7. Arya I

Arya didn’t trust the new guy. Granted she didn’t trust most new people, but there was something especially odd about the elder man. Sansa had tried to explain it to her briefly.

_‘Ramsey Bolton, you know him, right? He…did things to him. We have suspicions on how far he went but nothing for certain. Theon will need time to heal, and become whoever he used to be again.’_

_‘Like with Joffrey?’ She had asked._

_Sansa’s eyes had flashed somewhere between rue and pain as a bittersweet smile graced her face. “Yeah, something like that.’_

She supposed she had to feel bad for him, she had only heard passing stories of the Boltons and none of them had been joyful. Anything that came from _Ramsey_ of all people couldn’t be whole in any sense of the word. So, for the time being she was content to let him wander around the house, especially since he never seemed to be too far from Robb or Sansa, so long as he didn’t bother her too often. Didn’t mean that he never did.

It had been a month and a half since Robb and Jon had returned with Theon, and for the first time since then she had managed to find herself alone with Gendry. His room was situated at the back of the garage, close enough so that he could work on the cars easily but far enough away so that he wasn’t constantly awoken by the six am rush. In Arya’s mind it was also _just_ far enough from her siblings for days like the one at hand, where she preferred for him to take his time on her collarbone. Her t-shirt had been discarded at some point far gone, along with his jeans, with the clothing soon replaced with hands and mouths.

The sound of the door opening, along with the squeak that accompanied it, was so sudden that neither had a chance to try and rectify the situation. A small standoff commenced between the three of them before Theon quickly backed out of the room, Arya soon after him.

“Theon, wait!”

“Not Theon!” Arya often forgot to try and use Theon’s other name, his _Ramsey name_. “Reek, my name is Reek.”

She tried to not roll her eyes. “Whatever! You can’t tell Robb and Jon what you saw. Or Sansa!”

“They don’t know.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, they don’t.” She confirmed. “They’d freak out and Jon would probably threaten him and Gendry is scared that Robb would kill him or something.”

Theon bit his lip. One of his front teeth had been chipped when he had first arrived but Robb had paid for some dental implants in hopes that it would get him to eat more. “The Master got angry when things were kept from him.”

The room filled with an indescribable tension for a few moments. Arya swallowed lightly. “Robb…Robb isn’t like that. He’d understand, he isn’t like Ramsey.”

Theon seemed to be battling within himself, and Arya briefly wondered how many times he had been down that road since he had arrived at the Stark household. “You are safe and happy?” It came out as a whisper.

“Yes, very.”

There was a final swallow, “Then Robb won’t know.”

The youngest Stark girl found herself grinning wide, clasping her hands together in an attempt to compose herself. “Thank you, really, _thank you_.” Theon nodded curtly in return and began to walk away when she called out, “Theon, why are you down here anyway?”

“Sansa sent me to get you for dinner.” He replied simply before adding, “I would put your shirt on again though.”

Arya swore to herself that she saw the ghost of a smile on Theon’s face as he left the room. She wondered if that was the man he used to be before everything had obviously gone wrong, and asked herself how much a person would have to go through to allow their entire identity to be rewritten. With a sigh and a small smile of her own she turned back to both collect her missing clothes and calm her probably panicked boyfriend, a small part of her mind still stuck on the fact that Theon hadn’t corrected her the second time she used his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter, I was on a 5 day course and needed time to recover. This is mostly filler for plot purposes.  
> \---  
> Updates every Sunday to the best of my ability


	8. Jon II

“Robb, have you ever heard of this thing called sleep?”  Jon half stumbled into the room, Ygritte latched onto his side. He stifled a yawn as he took a seat opposite his brother, nodding gratefully at Luwin as the elder passed a half full pot of coffee.

“Yes, sorry for the early call everyone,” Robb started as he addressed the dining room – nearly everyone that worked for the Starks had managed to cram themselves into the room, “but I needed to do this before certain people woke up.”

“Presumably you mean Theon.” Ygritte bluntly stated as she leaned back on her chair, her ankles crossed on the table.

Robb sighed. “Yes, I do. This morning Vayon intercepted a letter pinned to the dead body of a guard at the main gate.” He threw the empty envelope onto the table face down so the flayed man on the cross stood out clearly in its wax.

“Roose Bolton? Again?” Dacey scoffed.

“Unfortunately not.” He unfurled the letter and read the contents out loud.

_“Starks,_

_It seems that during your meeting my father gave you something that does not rightfully belong to you – a foolish mistake on his part. Know now that he will no longer be making the decisions of House Bolton. I will._

_Our agreement may still go forth if you follow simple instructions. Return my Reek by two days’ time and we shall continue purposefully. Elsewise I shall commence a raid on your family and comrades that will leave no survivors and will allow you to see as I take what is mine by force._

_I should hope you make the obvious choice._

_Ramsey Bolton”_

“Son of a bitch.” Jon remarked as silence swept over the room. He glanced around momentarily at the occupants. Many had met Theon, either as full-time servants for the family or just in passing across the previous two months. Jon wouldn’t say that Theon had ‘marked his way into their hearts’ or anything as vomit-inducing but he had made a small ripple effect. He was no Stark, but he wasn’t to be thrown back to be broken over and over again either.

“So, what now?” Robb looked over to Rodrik Cassel, who had made the comment. “Everyone here knows that the boy is going nowhere. So what are we to do to secure that?”

The eldest Stark looked over the room, biting down on his lip ever so slightly. Jon remembered seeing the same expression on Catelyn Stark’s face every time she had to let her children grow up faster than how she wanted.

“Okay,” He addressed those around him, his voice loud and strong, “I want people to get every other house we have an alliance with and brief them on the situation. Remind them of our deals, and remind them of the concequences should they try to cross us.”

“With all due respect boy,” Osha cut it, “I haven’t seen you give out anything but threats since the day I arrived. How is this different? And what if they all say no, you gonna kill every ally you have”

“Of course not,” Robb smiled, though not from glee of any kind, “make a few lower houses examples. The rest will follow.”

When Jon was a child, people always seemed surprised how similar he was to his father – in looks and personality. Around the braver men he had been dubbed ‘Ned Junior’ to state as much. But in that moment, Jon knew that Robb was just as similar as he was. Jon had gotten the honour, the strong morals – that which Ned had shown to everyone. But Robb had gotten that which allowed Eddard to succeed in the business that broke many others – the raw appreciation for a fight.

* * *

“But _why_?”

“Because- because I said so.” Jon spluttered to his brother.

Rickon crossed his arms, a pout firm on his face. “That’s not a real answer.”

“Look Rickon, it’s just for a little bit – a week at absolute most. Lyanna is going too, so’s Bran and Arya and Sansa.” He crouched down, his land gently clasping the younger on the shoulder. “It’s just…it’s gonna get dangerous here for a bit. Robb and I want you guys to be safe in case anything goes bad.”

Rickon’s stance seemed to falter as his bottom lip wobbled ever so slightly. “But you’ll be back right? Not like Mommy and Daddy?”

“We-“ Jon swallowed quickly, pulling his brother in for a hug, “we’ll try our best. Okay?” He felt the smallest of nods against his shirt before pulling away and ruffling the kid’s hair. “Now get packing, you’ll be leaving in a couple hours.”

He walked out the room, leaving Rickon to decide between his toys, closing the door behind him. He walked no more than four steps into the hallway when he stated, “No Arya.”

“Jon, I’m _eighteen_. I’m old enough to help defend our family now.” She stood up as straight as she could manage, still barely coming up to his chin. “Rodrik says I’m the best shot he’s seen since you, I’m hitting headshots every time.”

“Targets don’t move,” Jon reminded her, “or fight back. Robb and I just-”

“Want us to be safe, I _know_. I also doubt Theon is going to the safehouse. You mean you suddenly don’t want him safe?”

He crossed his arms and stared down at her. “That’s different.”

Arya seemed even more enraged. “How? How is it any different? Surely it’s more risky taking the person that was _tortured_ there than someone who can actually fucking fight.”

“Language!”

“Who gives a shit? You could die!” Her voice cracked on the final syllable, all of the two siblings’ fight falling at the wayside. Arya scrubbed her eye furiously. “You and Robb, Dacey, Jory, Gendry-” Her voice shook even more, “all of you could die. I can help Jon. I can fight for you, for everyone. _Please_ , let me fight – let me be a Stark.”

Jon looked down at her. It was an odd feeling, seeing both the child she had been and the woman she was at the same time. He knew how good she was with guns and knives, he had been the one to first teach her back when they were young and long before Eddard had relented on her desires. He knew of her loyalty and selflessness, no doubt inherited from their father, and her never-ending stubbornness. He sighed.

“You will stay at the camp with the guards and help protect Theon – no further.” He expected a smirk or possibly a short laugh, but instead the woman threw herself at him, burying her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking the back of her head in a way that he had previously used to get her to sleep.

“Thank you.” A whisper. “I love you.”

“Love you too Arya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Sunday to the best of my ability


	9. Reek III

When Reek lived with The Master, he quickly got used to the unpredictability that came with the arrangement. There were times when Reek would be strapped to the cross for days on end, screaming until his throat was raw and his voice non-existent. Other days The Master would stroke his hair, whisper how good he was being. Those were the days that he lived for, the ones he looked back on when he questioned the worth of life. There were bad days, of course, but the good days were comforting and felt like some sense of home.

With Robb, there were no bad days. It had been jarring at first – Reek didn’t quite know how to react. If he knocked something over no one yelled. If he talked without being asked people responded.

People called him Theon. That had been the most confusing, The Master had done everything to rid the world of Theon Greyjoy just for the Starks to try everything to bring him back. Reek knew that he was Theon, he supposed he always did somehow, but to accept it would be to shove The Master out of his life. It would be to reject everything that was Reek.

Reek wasn’t quite sure how to be Theon anymore.

He knew bits and pieces from Luwin. Theon had been the heir to the Greyjoy business, a smuggling operation spanning the entirety of Westeros. Theon was by no accounts a competent businessman and many suspected that Balon would instead leave the company to Asha, the elder sister. None of it had mattered in the end anyway. Balon’s brother had returned from his own shipping company and slaughtered the owner in his house. While Euron was busy taking over the children had escaped and hadn’t been heard from again. Reek had dreams of these events, he had seen them through the eyes of Theon. He just wondered what the world would be like to always be through the eyes of Theon.

Robb pushed open the bedroom door, smiling at Reek and he closed it behind him. Reek had spent most of the day in his room as the entire household seemed to be buzzing for some trip.

“Hey,” Reek liked Robb’s smile, kind and genuine, “I guess you’ve seen the commotion?”

“A little bit, yeah.” He smiled back. Rickon had walked into his room around five times asking where various pieces of clothing were, since Reek had just recently started to help the servants with the household laundry.

_“You know you don’t have to do that.” Sansa had told him._

_But he had just smiled back. “Everyone has to earn their keep.” Sansa had squeezed his hand in response, she did it a lot. Reek didn’t know why, but he didn’t dislike it._

Robb sat down on the bed. “We’re going on a…trip. To someone’s base.”

“They wronged you?”

“Yeah, something like that.” He looked around the room, anyway but at Reek. “This one is more dangerous than the others. We’re sending the children away along with Sansa.”

“Oh. Okay.” He wasn’t sure what to say. He wondered where he would be going, but guessed he would find out in time.

“Its…” Robb swallowed quickly, “it’s Ramsey Bolton. He wants you back.”

It was an odd feeling. In one moment Reek both felt every weight off his shoulders and onto his chest. He briefly wondered if he was dying, it would certainly make everything quite a bit easier.

“Okay.” He rasped out.

“Theon,” Robb had turned to look at him, his hands pressed onto Reek’s shoulders, “you are not going back there.”

He tried to concentrate on breathing but breathing hurt so instead he tried to think of Robb’s hands and his arms, his shoulders and face. Reek liked Robb’s smile, kind and genuine.

“One day I hope you know that what he did to you was wrong, that you didn’t deserve it.” Robb. “But you are not going back, I promise.”

Reek liked Robb’s smile.

“Theon please breathe.”

Reek didn’t know how to breathe as much as he didn’t know how to be Theon.

“Theon.”

Robb was hugging him. There was wetness on Reek’s t-shirt near Robb’s face. Reek didn’t dislike it. He took a small breath.

Robb pulled back. His eyes shone in the light. “I promise you, you will not stay with Ramsey Bolton again. But we need your help to assure that. You know the Dreadfort.” Robb was hugging him. “Will you help us.”

The Master had created Reek out of blood and screams. Robb had torn Theon up from the ground with soft words and touches, with laughs and smiles. He liked Robb’s smile.

“Okay.” Theon whispered. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Sunday to the best of my ability


	10. Ramsey I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this is when the description of violence starts to kick in. Also, there's a brief mention of gore involving an unborn child. Tread carefully.

Ramsey knew what he was, and what he was not.

He _was_ a Bolton and was _not_ a bastard. The last man to tell him otherwise had suffocated on his own cut out tongue.

He was a man of mercy – he gave people chances to prove their worth. After they wasted that chance there was obviously no point in them staying around but until them they could try. It was always more fun to let them try.

Yet Ramsey knew too that he was not a man to persecute neither. Jayne, as lovely as her cries were, had tested her place one too many times. His father had rather tested him, disguised in ruses of teaching moments. Ramsey knew the truth, he knew that he was simply biding his time until his recent spawn arrived. He saw his knowing smiles that he would send his wife whenever she entered the room, their unkept secret.

But Ramsey had gotten to him first – a simple slit throat had sorted the matter quickly and with quite minimal effort. Of course Walda had been more difficult, but he had managed to lure her to his woods and, whilst she bored him on the news of her upcoming birth, his hounds ran from behind and brought her down too.

He was, of course, still a man of mercy. He had let them all be together – father, wife and child in the flames to burn their remains. He had to admit that a part of him had been sickened slightly by the sight of the child’s limb poking through a hole in her stomach where one of the dogs had become a hit more ravenous than the others, but it was for the best. He was in charge. Within the day he had asserted himself in the house and had penned the Starks about returning his property. It had been the last straw with his father. Reek was _his_ and his alone, made for whatever use Ramsey so desired. It had not been without flaws, creating life was like that it seemed. Reek had left him, his master. Ramsey knew that it would have been overjoyed with the chance to whore itself out to others. The Stark family was large and fruitful, Reek would have run towards them prepared for all and ready for more.

But Reek was his. Reek knew that. Ramsey supposed that he would just have to be taught that once more.

* * *

He knew that the Starks would want to keep Reek. Ramsey had trained him well so he easily would have suited any needs of the household and that was a gift that few would simply give up. He had to admit that he hadn’t expected a full-on camp packed with soldiers but some men never did things by halves.

It made no difference anyway. They were attacking the hold at that very moment, but it would take many hours – probably close to half a day to wear down the forces to the point that one side would pull victory. Ramsey wasn’t there either way, he had men to command and men to fight. He had bigger plans to execute. The Starks did not know the Dreadfort. They had been there one time of course but had been no further than the meeting room and possibly a hallway toilet. They would need knowing eyes for their plans. They would need Reek. But of course, Reek was no fighter, it was only useful for what Ramsey had taught it and it had only learnt to take swords – never use them. Which meant that Reek would be at their camp, awaiting the return of the people.

The first two guards had been easy enough to take out, a single gunshot each had made things nice and easy for him. A girl had been stood hear them too but had ducked inside the tent they had been guarding once Ramsey had made himself known. He stepped over the corpses with ease, quickly checking his suspicions that they were the only ones left, and entered in after the girl.

Reek was sat on the bed, its hands fisted in the sheets. Ramsey smiled at him and began to walk over to the prize, but it had been a trap. The girl jumped out from behind a strategy board, a knife grasped in her hand. She was young though and had made a far to noisy entrance. Ramsey had jumped forward, spun around and delivered one quick shot to her torso. A tight gasp fell from her lips and the body fell to the ground with not even a twitch to finish it.

Ramsey turned again. Reek was still on the bed but had drawn its knees up to its chest, its eyes wide and jaw slack as it stared at the girl. Ramsey crouched down and its eyes finally met his. Ramsey had missed those eyes, so easily full of emotion.

“Found you.” He whispered. Reek only made the smallest of whimpers. Ramsey’s smile only grew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every Sunday to the best of my ability


	11. Robb III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where the warnings of rape and violence some into play, hence the now upgraded rating. Read with your own caution.

Robb sucked in a sharp breath as he felt a bullet nick the top part of his ear, ducking his head back behind the tree. A few metres away he could spot Jon and Ygritte side by side each firing their guns in furious synchronisation. Sweat had mixed with the blood on their faces but he couldn’t tell whether they were wounded or had been splattered in the carnage. Robb breathed in slowly.

_‘Hold it steady Robb. Raise your arms a little more – there you go.’_

_‘Dad, I’m…I’m scared.’_

_A deep sigh resounded next to him. ‘I know son, but if you run this company right you hopefully will only need to fire a weapon a handful of times. Only if your life, the life of your family or someone you care about is in danger. Okay?’_

As soon as he could make out a moment of calm he sprung out from the tree and charged forward towards the Dreadfort. A bombardment of footsteps joined him as his family and allies joined him. They had been held down by constant gunfire and Robb would be damned if they wasted one more moment when they could be killing the Bolton bastard.

They charged down the door – would couple hardly match up against that many people and Robb just kept firing, occasionally ducking behind a hallway to reload. Flashes of friend and foe passed by him as he continued.

“He got the fucker in the end then?” Robb listened to the approaching voice as reloaded his gun once more, awaiting a chance to strike.

A laugh startled him – there were two. “Apparently they were keeping it at their camp. Had nothing but two guards and a _little girl_ there as protection. Can’t wait to see what Ramsey does to it this time after this is all done.”

Robb could not quite remember what happened in detail. He had been in hiding one moment and then standing over a quivering man the next, the companion dead on the floor next to him. The one below him was holding his hand over his own bullet wound to the stomach and whimpered in either fear, pain or both.

“Theon Greyjoy.” Robb knelt so that their faces were inches apart, his gun placed tightly under the other man’s chin. “You were talking about him. Where is he?”

“Ramsey had him!” His eyes were wide and his breathing rapid. The crimson stain on his shirt kept spreading. “They’ll be in the dungeon.”

“Thank you.” The eldest Stark pulled the trigger and ran back towards a staircase he had briefly seen prior. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Jon call out his name but his feet refused to stop. Theon was all his mind would comprehend, all he could understand in that moment.

Somewhere at the bottom of the stairs he heard a cry of pain. “Theon!” He called out, his footsteps quickening below him.

_‘Please be okay, please live, please come home with us, please forgive me for letting this happen.’_

Just as Robb stepped through the doorway, however, a sharp pain resonated in the back of his head knocking him to the ground in a heap. His skull throbbed as he attempted to look around, but everything seemed to blur together. He shut his eyes tightly.

“Oh Robb.” _Ramsey._ “Poor little Stark. You came to take my Reek away, didn’t you?” A soft laugh echoed around the room, devoid of all emotion. “And you really thought I’d let that happen. _Pathetic_.”

He opened his eyes once more. The world still seemed to spin but blobs formed into recognisable shapes. Ramsey was walking away from him a shadowed figure against the wall. As he approached, the shadow attempted to move away, whimpering, but was held in place by chains attaching their arms to the wall. Ramsey looked back at Robb and smirked, before dragging the figure forward into the light. His heart sank.

“Theon.” His speech came out slurred but the effect was obviously made. Ramsey laughed full-heartedly in a way that would likely have filled the entire base while Theon himself simply stared back at Robb as tears began to stream down his cheeks and onto the floor. His body was wounded with bruises and cuts, his clothes absent from sight.

“You thought you brought Theon back?” Ramsey was still holding onto him, his hair caught in a tight grip. “No sweet Stark. This is Reek.” His smile sickened Robb more than the headache ever could – it was tainted with blood and screams. “Reek is mine. Reek will always be _mine_. And I think you need a lesson in respecting other people’s property.”

His world still coming to a still and his arms worn out, Robb could only drag himself a few centimetres in a small attempt to reach the two. Ramsey gave out one final laugh before shoving his trousers down to his knees and jerking Theon back onto him, pulling him back twice before he was completely inside. Theon let out a small cry, his face contorted in pain but kept his eyes on Robb.

“Go on,” Ramsey whispered loudly, leaning forward as he began to thrust harshly, “tell him who you are.”

“I’m-“ A sharp intake of breath.

Ramsey grabbed his hair tighter, holding his head up by the white stands. “Tell him! Tell him who you are and who you belong to.”

“I…” Robb’s world stilled as he looked into Theon’s eyes. They were blue – bright, rich blue like oceans and lakes, and hardened. Not guarded like when he was Reek but hardened in a way that almost made the Stark boy uneasy.

_‘Please be okay.’_

“Robb.” Theon whispered.

Neither ever figured out whether Ramsey had heard the comment for not a second after it had fallen from his mouth, Theon threw his head back and collided it with the other man’s nose. It had not been a good shot – his captured arms prevented any damaging force from being brought into it, but the action alone was enough to throw Ramsey off balance. Theon quickly began to throw his body backwards, slamming Ramsey against the wall and hitting him in the shins with his feet. Robb pulled himself upright with the energy he could scramble together and pulled out his gun.

“Hold it steady.” His words barely came out coherent, even to him, but Robb knew what he meant. “Raise your arms a little more.” He knew where to aim. He caught his friend’s eyes and jerked his head down – Theon threw himself onto the ground, the chains pulled taught behind him. Robb pulled the trigger.

The first shot had Ramsey cry out and lean against the wall, with the second seemingly blending with it. He took two steps away before Robb shot a final time, sending him to the ground. Robb pulled himself onto his feet and staged over to the man, collapsing next to him. Ramsey’s chest rose and fell with a too-fast pace, his breaths turning more like wheezes. His crotch was soaking the floor in blood under where the bullets had hit – Robb had two targets in mind and had hit both. One of his shots, the third he guessed, had hit an artery in Ramsey’s leg and had led to catastrophic bleeding. Too much bleeding, Robb knew. The man would be unconscious in a minute at most, dead not long after. Robb leaned in close, his hands pressed against Ramsey’s shoulders.

“Theon belongs to Theon.” He wasn’t sure whether it had come out right but he supposed it didn’t matter either way. He fumbled through the trouser pockets and came out with a key, before dragging his way over to Theon’s huddled frame. Unlocking his trapped limbs, Robb reached out a timid hand but grasped hard all the same when Theon threw himself into his arms.

“Theon.” The other man repeated it over and over like a mantra as Robb simply held him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Jon call out his name. He supposed he must have called back as footsteps soon descended down the stairs. He did not move. Instead, Robb simply held Theon and breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates on Sunday if possible. Next chapter is the last.


	12. Theon I

Theon’s eyes opened to darkness, but not the kind he had once feared. The darkness he now knew lay wake to laughter and food and a warm body by his side each morning and eve. He still saw the knife and smelt the blood each time he slept, Ramsey may have died but he lived on in nightmares. Old Nan said that it was normal whilst Sansa said she understood, her nightmares were filled with blonde devils and crying. But all of that stopped by the morning, and the two of them were left with the warmth. He still had good days and bad days, sometimes it seemed as if his body had given up and he simply spent the entire time in bed. But even then Robb would come to him with sandwiches and would sit and talk whilst he listened, and the world would seem okay.

A soft snort had Theon turning to the side. Robb was lying next to him, his red curls even more unkempt than usual. They had had many talks in the weeks since the end of the Boltons and even then they weren’t quite sure where they were with each other. They slept in the same bed most nights, but Theon’s own room still remained the same for the days where he would rather be alone. They had kissed, a couple innocent pecks that still left hot flushes running down the Greyjoy boy’s spine and one more intense session that had been interrupted by Lyanna and Rickon that had led to the most awkward forty-five minutes of all four of their lives. But other than that, they had gone no further. Robb had once, in a slip of the mind, trailed his hand downwards but Theon had frozen, backed away until he fell off the bed and promptly threw up on himself and the carpet floor. He had slept in Sansa’s room that night.

They weren’t together, not in the same sense of Jon and Ygritte with their long times alone and their love-struck gazes. They weren’t even the same as Arya and Gendry, laughing at the others expense whilst meaning it all in love or him spoon-feeding the younger girl as she recovered from her ‘battle wound’, as she had soon dubbed it. (They had stopped being subtle, so Theon supposed that Robb must have figured out what had started. But then again, Gendry still lived so perhaps not.) They were in some kind of limbo-ish middle ground, Theon supposed, but then again it wasn’t that bad of a place to stand.

Robb began to stir next to him, his eyes blinking open to the soft gaze. “Hey.” He whispered, his voice harsh in the morning silence.

“Hey.” Theon reached a hand over, tucking a few curls behind the other’s ear.

“You okay.”

He smiled back, drawing soft circles on Robb’s scalp with his finger. “Never better.”

Robb turned over briefly and looked at the clock on the wall, luminated by the sun peaking under the blinds. Deciding they had time, he turned back and buried himself deeper under the covers. He pulled the arm around Theon closer and pressed a soft kiss to his nose, smiling fondly at the scrunch up he got in response. “You ready for today?”

He closed his eyes, his head leaning forward. He had gotten to Jon’s electric razor a couple days after they returned from the Dreadfort and had buzzed the hair from his head. It had grown back ever so slightly, just enough for Robb to run his hand through in that moment. “I’m…scared,” He admitted, “nervous, excited.” He looked up. “You get that.”

“Yeah, of course. It’s been years.”

“Nearly five.” It came out more as a whisper than anything else.

“But no matter what happens, everyone is so proud of you.” Theon knew that somehow, Jon had patted him on the shoulder when he agreed to the meeting, Sansa had hugged him the next morning when he came to help her with the younger ones. If he was to be completely honest with himself, as Old Nan had encouraged him to be, then he would say that he was even a little proud of himself.

* * *

The meeting wasn’t until one o’clock that afternoon, which meant that he still had time to bake with Sansa ( _“Do you think I should add more sugar or will it be too much? I don’t want it to be entirely apple flavoured, especially if they are too sour.”_ They had tasted perfect all the same.) and a quick talk with Old Nan. She reiterated much of what Robb had been saying the past few days but he smiled softly anyway.

She then asked, “Have you been to see Jayne?”

He paused. The first few days after the Dreadfort takeover, any remaining Bolton men had been put to work uncovering the secrets of the family. They had dug up the wooded graveyard, returning bodies – sometimes simply sections to the family members. Jayne had been near the front. Her father had wept into her hair and whispered that he would see her and her mother again one day, but had smiled all the same as Theon told him how brave she had been. She was reburied behind the Church not long after, and he made the effort of going to her grave every couple days. Sometimes he talked, other times he cried. Once he had simply sat there in silence for an hour.

“I went yesterday afternoon.” He told her. “Her dad was there and asked me to sit. He told me about her as a child – apparently she was a dreamer.”

“Was he happy to see you?”

Theon licked his lips. “I think so. He hugged me as we left.”

“I think,” Old Nan said, her eyes soft, “that he’s happy that someone was looking out for her in her final days.” Theon had smiled in return.

The doorbell rang, awakening him from his daydream in the living room. Bran quickly led Rickon outside as Arya remained sat in the armchair. She nodded at Theon as he stood before returning her attention to the television. He walked into the hallway as Robb opened the door. A woman, shorter than he, stood on the other side. Her hair had grown slightly but her nose had remained the same.

“You’re the guy from the phone, right?” Her voice was strong as she squared herself up against Robb. “You said you had my-” She met eyes with Theon, her mouth gaping slightly. Robb stepped away so that nothing blocked their path.

Asha took a step forward into the house. “Theon.”

Theon took a deep breath in.

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading this. If you liked it, feel free to scope me out on Tumblr (@TheNaturalOblivion). I take requests!


End file.
